


More Trouble Than She's Worth

by baar_ur



Series: Trouble and Honor [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friendship, Gen, More Than Canon-Typical Violence?, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baar_ur/pseuds/baar_ur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Krenth Beeska has never been all that fond of Ord Mantell. Apparently the feeling goes both ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Backstabber, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go badly.

“Come on, baby. I’m good t’ you, be good t’ me.”

The smuggler captain mutters to her ship as she navigates the barricade. She had hoped to slip into Ord Mantell’s atmosphere over the pole, avoiding any scrutiny, but no such luck had come her way.

“Awright, babe, I’m sorry for this,” the captain hisses between her teeth. She adjusts a few switches and winces as g-forces rock the freighter. The bastards manning the blockade are well prepared, but not well enough. Their massive cruisers could fight off a large-scale attack from the void, and their patrol crafts are more than capable of ruining any attempt to break the blockade from the planet. The cruisers can’t take out this smuggler’s ship, though, and the patrol crafts can’t break atmo as fast as she can. “Come on, baby,” Krenth Beeska groans. She can almost feel her poor freighter losing parts to turbulence.

Once the _Honor_ breaks the ionosphere, it’s smooth sailing. There are a few anti-aircraft batteries that pick her up, but their operators are lousy. They’re shaken off her tail in time for a clear landing. Krenth makes a quick diagnostic check. There’s no damage registering, which means she’s lost some plates and something will fall off soon. Other than that, her darling freighter is in one piece.

“Can’t believe you made it through there, Captain,” someone says as she heads down the ramp. “Your ship isn’t even scratched.”

“If those’re your boys manning the guns, you need t’ train ‘em better,” she replies. “You must be Viidu’s agent.”

“That I am.” He doesn’t offer a name, and she doesn’t ask. He’s looking her over as he holds out a hand to shake, so she returns the favor as she takes it. He’s tall, tanned, and tattooed; pretty much the opposite of the small, pale, scarred captain. Viidu warned her that he’s a womanizer, but she doubts she’ll get anything out of him. There are plenty of blonde Human women out there, and most of them don’t have a knife scar from one side of their face to the other. “And no, the boys aren’t mine. Local militia. They’re usually good about leaving Viidu’s friends alone; I don’t know what got into ‘em.”

“I was flying quiet so the separatists couldn’t trail me on a signature,” Krenth explains as she follows him into the warehouse. “It’s possible they saw somebody coming in and assumed the worst.”

“That makes sense,” the agent agrees. He starts working on a databank. “This place used to be safe, but the separatists are moving in. If I were you, I’d haul jets as soon as those blasters are unloaded.”

“Already planning on it.”

He grabs an envelope of credit chips off the table beside the computer. “Here’s your payment, Captain. You’re free to fly as soon as the cargo hits the ground.”

Krenth is reaching for the envelope when Viidu’s agent looks over her shoulder, toward some running footsteps. She turns to look with him.

The runner is a young Human man, not far into his twenties. He’s larger and darker than the agent, and markedly grubbier. Krenth likes him right away. You can’t trust a person who isn’t a little dirty. He looks like a sensible kid, with dreadlocks tied back at the nape of his neck and a rifle slung over his shoulder. “We’ve got trouble,” he pants. “Separatists took the air defense cannon.”

“Whoa, slow down, Corso,” the agent chuckles. He tosses the envelope to Krenth and heads toward the younger man. “What’re you talking about?”

“Set up some kinda remote-control stations and hijacked the targeting computer.  Damn seps just destroyed an incoming Republic transport!” Corso’s voice rises as he grows more agitated.

“Easy, kid,” Krenth orders. She tucks her payment into an inner pocket of her jacket and follows the agent. “You work with him?”

“Yeah. I’m Corso Riggs. You must be the captain.”

“Krenth Beeska.” She introduces herself distractedly, holding out a hand for him to shake while looking at the agent. “So it wasn’t the militiamen trying t’ shoot me down on that landing.”

Riggs knocks her hand out of the way. “You don’t get it! With those remote control stations, the seps can override the air defense cannon’s computer and turn that firepower against us any time they want!”

“Thank you, I figured that!” Krenth snaps right back. She pulls the heavy blaster on her hip from its holster and starts checking its charge. “Getting in was easy, but I won’t be able t’ take off until they’re outta the picture. I’ll need you t’ show me where these stations are.” She holsters the heavier weapon and starts checking the lighter, long-distance pistol on the other side of her belt.

“They’re all over the area, and they look portable-”

The agent interrupts Corso. “If you take out enough, their signal should weaken. I need Corso to help unload the blasters.”

“Fine.” Krenth jams her pistol back into its holster and raises a threatening finger to the agent’s face. “If you touch _anything_ other than the cargo, I’ll tear your throat out. Understood?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Understood.”

 

The village is small, quiet… and overrun with blaster-toting separatists. Krenth resists the urge to heave a sigh. Instead, she adjusts the canvas satchel over her shoulder and strolls toward the nearest group of separatists.

“Hey there,” she calls with a smile, raising a hand in a wave. “You guys having any trouble with your transmitters?”

The separatists- a pair of Human men and a Twi’lek woman- glance between themselves. They hold their weapons at the ready, but seem put off-guard by Krenth’s nonchalance. “Who’re you?” the Twi’lek asks.

“Tech support. I got sent t’ check on your equipment. Seems last time they were used, the signal started t’ break down after ‘bout a half hour.”

“We… built these ourselves?” one of the men says uncertainly.

“Well, damn, then!” She gives the group a friendly smile before drawing and shooting them. The Twi’lek is the only one fast enough to get a shot off, but she misses. Each of the men get a blaster bolt to the head- not accurately aimed, but enough to kill- and Krenth shoots the Twi’lek in the chest. Sloppy, maybe, but good enough. A couple of bolts put the remote-control station out of work.

No one’s come running at the sound of shots, so she leaves the bodies where they lay. A few nearby crates provide necessary help to climb onto the top of the wall enclosing the village. From what she can see, the separatists are complacent, marching residents out into a field and guarding the remote stations lazily. Watching for a moment, one building starts to stick out. The other houses are either empty or being emptied, but one has separatists streaming in and out.

Krenth drops down from the wall and runs along the back of the houses toward the separatists’ little base camp. At one point, a patrol passes in the street. They make so much noise she hears them coming from three houses away, and takes cover behind a wall. Are they really so stupid, or are they just badly trained? It doesn’t really matter, in the end.

Two grenades thrown through a window will kill anybody, badly trained or not.

As she’d suspected, there must have been some kind of control center in the building. The air defense battery powers down, drooping from its vigilant position. Separatists scramble into the building to help the wounded, but no one notices the shadow slipping along the wall toward the warehouse.

 

“Nice job, Captain,” the agent says with a grin. He’s leaning back against a pile of crates comfortably. “Heard the explosion.”

“Just tell me you’ve got my ship unloaded.”

“Just about. Corso’s coming down with the last box.” He nods toward the loading ramp.

Sure enough, the young man’s dusty boots are heading down. “Hey, Skavak!” he calls. “Little help?”

“Skavak?” Krenth repeats, drawing her heavy blaster slowly.

“I told Viidu not to hire a Corellian,” Skavak sighs. His hand twists, and suddenly he has a knife. Krenth is fast enough to dive out of the way, but not fast enough to dodge completely. She hits the ground hard enough to lose her grip on her heavy blaster, and Skavak kicks it out of her reach. She tries desperately to draw her other blaster as he crouches over her. Her blood makes its handle slick and she can’t seem to get her left arm to respond, so she has no luck. “They’re just more bother than they’re worth,” the con man hisses before he slams the knife down. Krenth screams in pain, curling in on herself.

“What the hell’re you doing?” Riggs shouts.

“She’s working with the seps!” Skavak runs toward the ship, drawing another knife from the small of his back. “Get the blasters back on board, we’ve got to get out of here!”

The claim startles Riggs enough to put him off his guard. While his hands are full, Skavak hits the younger man, knocking him down and out of the way. Corso tumbles off the ramp and hits the landing pad hard. He manages to roll out of the way just before the engines kick in.

Krenth watches in stunned silence as her ship leaves without her. He took her ship. He _took_ her ship. So much has happened to her before, but now… He _took_ her _ship_.

“Guess it’s not true you’re working with the separatists, then,” Riggs says as he limps toward her. Blood drips down one of his temples.

She closes her eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognizes she’s going into shock. Whether it’s from the wounds or the theft, she isn’t sure.

“Captain? Captain, come on, stay with me…”


	2. A Rainy Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They head for Fort Garnik.

Krenth wakes to the sound of rain. She’s a little surprised to be waking at all. Still, she does her best to take stock of her surroundings in the gloom.

The place seems to be some kind of abandoned bunker. There’s a slit in one of the duracrete walls, big enough to let in gray light and damp wind. Whoever brought her here left her propped up against the back wall, supported by a backpack. They bandaged her up, too; the slash across her chest is stitched closed and wrapped with strips of her shirt, as is the stab wound to her shoulder. Her belt’s been removed and draped across her lap. With a lot of wincing, the smuggler manages to draw her heavy blaster. The effort leaves her panting and dizzy, but she’s glad of it when a large, dark figure steps into the bunker.

“The hell ‘re you?” she demands breathlessly.

“Easy, Captain.” Riggs raises his hands and steps forward. “Glad to see you awake.”

Krenth sets her pistol down on her lap. “Where are we?”

“Old Republic Army shelter,” Riggs explains as he crouches and starts to dig through the pack supporting Krenth. “They used to run patrols out of here before the seps bombed it. Hasn’t been used since; they work out of Fort Garnik these days. I was tryin’ to get there when the rain started.”

“So- what, you _carried_ me outta that hangar?”

She can’t be certain in the faint light, but it looks like he blushes. “The- the seps were coming, and you’re not, um…”

“I know, I know,” Krenth sighs. “You’ve met grain sacks bigger than me, I can’t protect myself, I should get a real crew and stick to piloting- I’ve heard it before.”

Riggs blinks at her, flustered. “Well, the first is true, though it’s an awful mean way to put it. The rest certainly ain’t. I saw the way you put those seps outta action, Captain. Sticking to piloting could be a real loss for justice on this planet.”

The smuggler chuckles and leans her head back. “Justice. That’s a new one.”

“Can I ask something?” Riggs asks as he slides down the wall to sit beside her.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Why’d you draw on Skavak? Did he say somethin’ to you?”

Krenth shakes her head. “I recognized his name when you called him.”

“So you know him, or…”

“He’s kinda infamous. More likely t’ cut somebody down than cut ‘em out, and he does his best t’ cut everybody outta his deals. Seduces rich women as a hobby. He’d sell his own mother if it’d put him ahead.” She sighs. “If I’d’ve asked for an introduction, we wouldn’ be here.”

“Well, it ain’t that bad,” Corso replies, seemingly irrepressible. “Nice scenery… Nice company…”

“Are you trying t’ flirt with me?”

The mercenary looks away and doesn’t reply.

“I’m not complaining. I’ve lost too much blood t’ tell.”

He clears his throat. “I- kinda… yeah…”

Krenth chuckles and lays her head back against the wall. “You’re cute, Riggs.”

 

It’s almost dark when they limp into Fort Garnik. The place is full of soldiers, as is any self-respecting fort, but drowning in refugees. Cathar, Duros, and Humans chased out by the separatists huddle in tents and overcrowded barracks. Krenth is glad for the bulk of Riggs at her side to keep the refugees from pressing too close. As it is, the muck and grime bring up memories like bile.

Riggs tugs the captain through the crowds toward a studiously non-suspicious warehouse. He leaves her leaning against the doorway while he whispers with a dark-haired Human girl. Within a few minutes, they’re in Viidu’s office above the warehouse floor. Viidu paces and rants to himself while the young woman, Syreena, tries to fuss over Krenth’s injuries. Corso hovers over her shoulder protectively.

“And here’s to the stupid separatists who destroyed it all!” Viidu shouts abruptly, making the others jump. “Between them and that backstabber Skavak, I’m as good as ruined!”

“I’ll be fine. I just need kolto and rest,” Krenth murmurs, managing to shake off Syreena and stand. “It can’t be that bad, Viidu. One shipment ain’t gonna lose you the war.”

“The blasters belonged to Rogun the Butcher! He’s killed enough people to fill a convoy of bulk freighters, and now _we’ve_ crossed him,” Viidu says. “Rogun bought those blasters to protect his business here from the separatists. When he finds out what’s happened, guess who dies first?”

“You, for hiring Skavak. _I_ can pay back the cost of the blasters, as long as I can get my ship.”

“He’s not going to want money! The only way we’re getting out of this alive is if we find Skavak and those stolen blasters.” Viidu sighs and turns away to get another drink. “I know where to start looking, at least. There’s a guy called Reki, an expert on separatists. Problem is, he’s stuck behind a Republic blockade. Troops have his village surrounded while they ‘contain’ the separatists there.” The crime lord scoffs. “Anyway- I’m friendly with the commander in charge of the blockade. I can get you in and out of the village. Dealing with the separatists in there is your problem.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anybody else?” Riggs asks.

“No. So, unless you’d like to go skipping around every open field and town square big enough to land an XS-light freighter…” Viidu takes a long, slow drink, waiting for Corso to reply. The mercenary looks down at his boots instead. “Didn’t think so.”

“What do I need to do?” Krenth demands.

“Reki’s village, Talloran, is running low on basic supplies because of the blockade. Things are getting desperate. I’ll pull together a survival kit, you’ll smuggle it to Reki, and he’ll tell you how to find Skavak.” Viidu drains his glass and sets it aside. “I’ll send him a message so he knows you’re coming, but it’s not safe to travel after dark. You can leave in the morning.”

“Where do I go until morning? I don’ have anything but my ship.”

“There’s some cots in the back room,” Viidu says with a vague wave of his hand. “Corso can show you where.”

 

Krenth falls face-first onto one of the cots with a groan.

Behind her, Riggs chuckles. “Syreena said she was gonna bring you some kolto. Want me to tell her to wait ‘til later?”

The smuggler mumbles her reply into the cot, but gets her point across by shaking her head. She still refuses to move when the door to the back room hisses open.

“Hey. I brought- um-“ Syreena falters.

“She’s fine, I think,” Corso assures the girl. “I’ll take those.”

Krenth rolls over with a sigh. “Thanks, Syreena. You’re a sweetheart.” She adds a wink, and the dark-haired woman flees with reddening cheeks. Maybe blushing’s a Mantellian thing. Riggs does it enough.

He sets an armful of items at the side of her cot. “Looks like she brought a couple blankets, pillow, some kolto salve…”

“I’ll go through ‘em.”

“All right.” The mercenary kicks off his boots before imitating Krenth’s flop onto the other cot.

Krenth sits up with a chuckle. She piles the blanket and pillow on her cot. “I got you that tired, Riggsy?” she teases as she starts to strip out of her jacket and armored vest.

“Nah, Captain. I just appreciate a good bed,” Corso informs his pillow.

“Is there somewhere I could go t’ do this?” Krenth asks. Corso looks up for clarification, and she shows him the tin of kolto.

“Why not… oh, you gotta take your shirt-“ The mercenary cuts himself off with a blush. “I’ll stand outside, make sure nobody comes in to bother you.”

“You don’t have t’ move,” she protests as he pushes himself up.

“It’s no trouble,” Corso insists, sliding his boots back on. “Just tell me when you’re done.” He steps out of the back room and, true to his word, starts standing guard as it closes behind him.

Krenth pulls off her shirt with a wince and starts to smear the sticky kolto salve across her knife wounds. The stitches are slightly wobbly, but neat and small. They tug as she works, but she’s dealt with worse pain before. It’s not like she has anyone else to do it. She hits the button to open the door again once she’s done and dressed.

“All taken care of?” Riggs asks, poking his head in.

Krenth has already stretched out on her cot, but she gives him a thumbs-up gesture. She’s vaguely aware of Corso pulling up her blanket before she falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr at baar-ur.tumblr.com for more about Krenth and previews of future stories.


	3. Talloran Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krenth makes a supply run.

Krenth wakes to the pale light of an Ord Mantell pre-dawn and a gentle snoring from the cot opposite. Riggs is sprawled across his cot with three out of four limbs dangling over the sides. The captain gives the sleeping mercenary a faint smile and tucks her blanket over him.

He seems like a good kid, she thinks as she starts to do up the snaps of her ceramic-plated armored vest. He’s probably about the same age that she is, so she shouldn’t call him kid, but… he’s so much more innocent. She can tell that just looking at him. He’s never shot someone down because it was him or them. He’s never held someone he loves in his arms while they die. Krenth has, and as she looks in the mirror over the back-room sink, she wonders if it shows.

Something does: something that aches in the cool night air and forces her to grimace at her reflection. The smuggler rubs at the scar on her face, trying to relieve some of the numbness and gain a little mobility. The pain is different day to day; sometimes the scar tissue above her right eye makes her head ache, sometimes the scar on her left cheek makes even a smile painful. Today it just feels like someone laid a plaster strip across her face while she slept and left it there to dry.

Her sister had good intentions, deciding to scar their faces, but sometimes she wonders. She was only eight; should she have made the decision? The scar didn’t work at its intended purpose, staving off assault; was it still worth it? All she remembers of the event was blood and boiled metal and Onith urging her on. ‘ _We have to do it, Krenth, come on._ ’ Her sister has been dead almost ten years, but she remembers her voice perfectly.

Krenth shrugs into her leather jacket, steps into her boots, and leaves. The past is in the past. The future is in Talloran, at least today.

 

Of the many places Krenth has been, Talloran may be the single most pitiful outpost she has ever visited. Two entrances and exits, as far as she can tell, both blockaded by Republic forces, with one on the main road up the mountain and the other leading down to the beach. The duracrete blast walls surrounding the tiny town are stained with ash and soot, with occasional light pockmarks from blaster fire. Viidu must have sent a description of her to the commander, because the soldiers stand aside and let her pass.

Down the hill, the separatists have a matching blockade. At least, that’s probably what they call it. Two elderly men with equally elderly blasters do not make a threat, in the smuggler’s opinion. Krenth doesn’t even bother with them. While they’re distracted, she ducks around a corner to a secluded section of wall. She doesn’t have her good climbing gear- that’s on her _ship_ \- but the backpack Viidu gave her isn’t that heavy and the wall isn’t that high. If she falls, she probably won’t die.

The blast walls must be as old as the guards; when Krenth kicks at a ricochet mark, the duracrete crumbles. Perfect. Five minutes spent scratching a series of hand- and foot-holds into the walls, and she’s up and over. She tumbles down into a small dirt yard, carefully divided up into parcels for a garden. The plants are small and weedy, although the beds are obviously given an incredible amount of care. It’s a little pitiful.

Krenth picks herself up, shaking off the dust from the climb and the landing. A small cough makes her freeze and look up. A little Twi’lek boy, no more than six years old, stands over a garden plot on the far side of the yard. The green-skinned child is about as small and weedy as the plants he tends, but his dark eyes are sharp.

Moving slowly, Krenth slides the backpack off her shoulders and reaches into it, drawing out a ration bar. “Do you know Reki?” she asks softly as she holds it out.

“Everybody knows Reki,” the boy replies.

“I’ll give you this now. If you take me t’ Reki, I’ll give you another.”

The child eyes her suspiciously. “Toss it over.”

Krenth obeys, throwing the food underhand to the boy. He tears into it as she pulls the pack on again. “Do we have a deal?”

The Twi’lek nods, mouth full. Still in the process of stuffing the ration bar into his face, he leads Krenth over to a gate and down an alley. A few twists and turns later, they stand before another fortified house. This one looks rather more professionally reinforced, however; the boards nailed over the windows are backed with plasteel to prevent shrapnel from breaking through, and the façade of abandonment is as carefully maintained as the little garden that was Krenth’s first introduction to Talloran. The boy knocks in a special pattern.

A young woman opens the door almost immediately. “What are you doing back? Where’s the food?” she hisses.

“She wants to see Reki,” the Twi’lek says with a shrug. He looks up at Krenth and holds out his hand.

“Thanks for the help, little man.” Krenth hands him another ration bar before turning to the woman at the door. “Viidu sent me. I have supplies.”

“Come in, quickly.”

 

Reki is a lanky Human man, with a carefully groomed beard. In spite of his vanity, he looks as hungry as the rest of the women and children in his hideout. He hides it, though, sprawling on a couch to watch two women play dejarik.

“She says Viidu sent her,” Krenth’s escort snaps.

“Well, she’s obviously not a separatist,” Reki drawls, sitting up. “You must be the hotshot freighter captain Viidu was so enthusiastic about. He failed to express how beautiful you are, though. Color me impressed.”

The compliment turns Krenth’s stomach. “I’ll color you bruised if you don’ knock it off. Here’s your supplies.” She tosses the backpack at Reki, a little harder than necessary.

The man winces as he stands, but tries to cover it with a grin. “These ladies and I are very grateful. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d throw you a party.”

“Just tell me where I can find Skavak.”

“Patience, Captain,” Reki purrs as he starts to hand out the ration packs. “I’m told it’s a virtue.”

Krenth sighs and crosses her arms. She watches the criminal pass the food around to the women. “Keeping the rest for yourself?” she mocks when he pauses.

“I’m not all that hungry, actually.” Reki avoids looking at Krenth as he gives an older woman a fistful of rations. “Take these upstairs for the kids, will you, darlin’?” He hefts the backpack and gestures for Krenth to follow.

She trails him into the kitchen. “I don’t give a damn what you’re doing here, but I don’t like when people lie t’ me.”

“I haven’t said a single false word since you arrived, Captain,” Reki says as he starts to unpack the survival kit. “Except maybe about the party. Now, do you want your information or not?”

Krenth bites back an irritated huff. “Yes,” she snaps.

“The only place to find personnel information is on Mannett Point,” the criminal recites. “I know all manner of shortcuts through the warehouses, but you’ll still have to swim the channel and decrypt the separatists’ files.”

“Do you know the key?”

He shakes his head. “You’ll need special equipment to decipher the information. That’s Viidu’s area of expertise, not mine.”

“How do I know these shortcuts aren’t a trap? I bet you’d love it if the separatists eased up a bit.”

“Because, Captain, you’ve saved our lives, at least for the next few months.” Reki tucks the last protein pack into a cabinet. “I’ll work up a map of my shortcuts and send it down to Viidu.”

“Fine,” Krenth says through gritted teeth. “Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Why do you do this?” Krenth asks. “Take these women in? You can’t be fucking all of ‘em.”

“I’m not taking advantage of any of them,” Reki says, soft and calm in spite of her harsh words. “They’re widows and orphans, or as good as. Their husbands and fathers have been killed or kidnapped and conscripted into the separatist army. They’re here for protection.”

“But why? Why you?”

“Because I can.”

Krenth barely manages not to roll her eyes.

“Captain, truly-“ He reaches out for her as she starts to turn away. She manages to slide to the side and avoid contact, but looks back to him. “We owe you our lives. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta, clicketykeys.


	4. Security Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krenth answers too many questions for her own comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter contains non-graphic mentions of domestic abuse.

The old men standing guard in Talloran are exceptionally confused when Krenth waltzes out of the blockaded town. She waves at them, just for the entertainment value. The Republic soldiers on the barricade chuckle as the guards begin to bicker over whether or not she’s a resident.

The walk back to the fort is quiet and peaceful. Birds chirping, grass rustling, distant explosions… Well, the distant explosions aren’t peaceful, but the fact that they’re _distant_ is good enough for her. Krenth strolls along with her hands in her pockets, looking more at the trees than at where she’s going. The same soldiers are on guard at the gate as when she left, and they give her a friendly wave. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad planet, if it wasn’t for the civil war and rampant corruption.

“Captain!” a man shouts as soon as she steps inside the fort. Someone grabs her from behind and spins her around, holding her upper arms in a tight grip. “What were you thinkin’?” Corso hisses, shaking her a little.

“Look down,” Krenth orders coldly.

“What-“

“Look. Down.”

Riggs glances down at the blaster pressed against his stomach. He releases Krenth immediately and steps back. “I’m sorry-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she hisses. Better to be angry than afraid; she can’t give herself away. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ -“ She can’t let her voice shake. “Don’t… touch me. Unless I say you can.”

“You’re right,” Corso says softly. “I shouldn’t’ve grabbed you like that. I won’t do it again.”

Krenth holsters her heavy blaster and starts to turn away.

“Captain, will you please gimme a minute?” the mercenary asks, still speaking gently. To his credit, he reaches out to touch her but stops short.

“You have _a_ minute.” She can hold it together that long. She can keep her breathing under control, she can pretend her head isn’t spinning, she can keep herself from shaking… at least for a minute.

“I said- or I thought I said- I was gonna go with you to Talloran. When you left without me, I was… I was scared for you.” The look Corso gives her is all big brown puppy-eyes, but Krenth is too focused on holding herself together to appreciate it. “I wanna stick with you until we get Skavak. He took somethin’ of mine, too, my favorite blaster-“

“I get it,” Krenth snaps. “We’ll work together, fine. I give the orders. I’m in charge.”

“Absolutely, Captain.” He gives her a casual salute.

Krenth turns away. She has to find somewhere quiet, somewhere no one will see her, before the fear that’s knotting in her stomach spreads to her limbs, makes her fall and shake and weep-

“Where are you goin’?” Corso asks from right behind her.

She jumps and spins on him. She wasn’t expecting him to follow her, damn it. “I got somethin’ t’ handle! Go, git! I’ll meet you at Viidu’s,” she growls.

The look on his face would be heartbreaking if she could see it before she runs away.

 

Krenth is a little nauseous and somewhat shaky on her feet when she heads into Rendia Freight. The fear Riggs kicked off wasn’t the worst she’s ever had to deal with, but it’s the first one in a while. The past may be in the past, but it’s still taught her to fear some things irrationally.

Syreena looks up from a datapad as Krenth stumbles over a crate. “Are you all right, Captain?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine.” The smuggler knows she sounds unconvincing, but she doesn’t have the energy to muster up a happy face.

Fortunately, Syreena lets the issue slide. “Viidu’s waiting for you up in his office. I think Corso’s in there with him.”

“What do you know about him?” Krenth asks, pausing. “Riggs, I mean.”

“Separatists wiped out his family a couple years ago, I think,” the younger woman says. She brushes hair out of her face. “He took it kinda personally. He was in the militia for a while before he wound up here as warehouse labor.”

For a moment, the smuggler can only stare at Syreena blankly. She can’t be telling the truth. There’s no way Krenth managed to misread someone that badly. “You’re kidding.”

“No. He doesn’t talk about it a lot, so…” Syreena trails off with a shrug. “He’s really sweet, but there’s more to him than that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Krenth shakes her head. Well, it explains how he managed to stitch her up, if nothing else. “Thanks, sweetheart. I owe you one.”

The dark-haired girl blushes and giggles as Krenth heads off for Viidu’s office.

Upstairs, the crime lord is kicked back in a chair at the head of his conference table. “Nice work in Talloran, Captain. Reki already sent over a map of his ‘shortcuts’.”

“Always wondered how Reki could steal so much from Mannett Point and not get caught,” Riggs chuckles from the doorway. He must have gone to change while Krenth was indisposed; he’s wearing full durasteel plate armor rather than the scrubby scout’s camouflage he had on before. He gives the captain a respectful nod and leans against the table beside her.

“Getting into Mannett Point is going to be tough,” Viidu tells the pair. “For one thing, you have to swim there.”

Krenth groans and covers her eyes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“When the separatists invaded, they blew up the only bridge leading onto the island,” Corso explains.

“There isn’t a boat or something?” she asks hopefully.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” Viidu teases. “Don’t like getting wet?”

“I can’t swim,” Krenth snaps at the older man.

“Good thing I’m comin’ along, huh?” Riggs gives her a grin.

Viidu gives the mercenary a frown, but says nothing about it. “You’ll have to download the separatists’ files onto a datapad and bring it back here. I’ll handle the rest.” He starts to pat his pockets. “I could’ve sworn I just had it… Corso, go and see if I gave it to Syreena, will you?”

“Sure thing,” the younger man agrees, pushing himself off the table. “I’ll see you downstairs, Captain.”

Krenth gives him a nod, and watches Viidu watch Corso leave. “What’ve you got t’ say you don’t want him t’ hear?” she asks once the door closes behind him.

“The last thing we need is Corso going ‘one man army’ out there,” Viidu says softly. “He’ll get himself killed for nothing. His family-“

“Syreena told me.”

“Then you understand you have to keep him under control.”

Krenth nods once.

 

They leave Fort Garnik at dusk, just before the sentries close the gates for the night. Riggs has a waterproof backpack stuffed full of what he termed ‘goodies’ slung over his shoulder. In Krenth’s opinion, Viidu’s selection of ammo and explosives is pitiful. Half a dozen frag grenades, a scant kilogram of plastic explosive, and a few meters of det-cord are not appropriate supplies for an assault on a hostile military outpost. Still, it could be worse.  Viidu could have refused to let her take Corso and-

“So, if you’re from Corellia, how come you can’t swim?” the mercenary asks, interrupting her train of thought.

“Huh?” is her oh-so-intelligent reply.

“Well, Corellia’s got oceans and lakes and stuff, right?”

“I think so. Never been.”

“Skavak said-“

“Skavak’s _koochoo kung_ for listening t’ gossip,” Krenth tells him flatly. “I run with Corellians- ran with one in particular for a long time- but I’m not one. Not even expat stock.”

Riggs nods like he understands what she’s said. “Where _are_ you from, Captain?”

Krenth weighs her options quickly: _here and there_ ; _say Hutt Space and leave it at that_ ; _never called a place home_ … “Nar Shaddaa,” she lies. “I got picked up off the street by a Corellian smuggler name of Jace Thorn. He taught me a lotta what I know.” That, at least, is true. Jace taught her to fight, to fly, and to fear.

“That’s nice.”

It isn’t. It wasn’t. It was seven years of hell that only got worse as it went along. “Guess so,” Krenth forces herself to agree. “Jace, uh… he died a couple years back. I don’t like talkin’ about it. Or him.”

“I understand,” Riggs says sympathetically. “It’s tough for me to talk ‘bout my family, too.”

If she vomits at the thought of Jace as family, it will make him suspicious. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly.

When she opens her eyes again, Riggs is looking at her with concern. “You okay, Captain?”

“Yeah. I just…” She fakes a smile and waves dismissively. “Memories, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Corso’s responding smile is small and genuine.

For the first time in a year or more, Krenth feels guilty.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr at baar-ur.tumblr.com for more about Krenth and previews of future stories.


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